


Like Coal on the Lips

by DizzyDrea



Series: Scenes From an Accidental Courtship [13]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanctification. Purification. Absolution. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but what she'd found was infinitely more precious: acceptance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Coal on the Lips

**Author's Note:**

> It's taken me a while to catch up on the new season, so apologies if this is a little behind. Muse and I loved _Praesidium_ and _The 3rd Choir_ , and this is the direct result. And because it felt like it fit, it's going into the _Accidental_ 'verse.
> 
> Disclaimer: NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles and all its particulars are the property of CBS, Paramount, Donald P. Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, Shane Brennan, Shane Brennan Productions, and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

"How did you know?"

They were lounging on the floor of Callen's living room, a massive pile of pillows and blankets (courtesy of Nell) forming an intimate nest where the two lovers could hunker down and ignore the outside world. After a hasty dinner of take-out Chinese and beer at the breakfast bar in Callen's kitchen, they'd both made a beeline for the living room, as if each one somehow knew just what the other needed.

At this point, Nell felt like she knew Callen as well as—maybe even better than, on certain days—anyone else in the world. 

Maybe not Hetty, but then again, she'd lay odds that Hetty was psychic. How else did the woman know everything she knew?

Callen smiled down at her where she had her head pillowed against his abdomen. "How did I know what?"

"How did you know that I'd be okay?" she asked. She pushed herself up and tucked her feet under her, hands in her lap held tightly to stop herself from fidgeting. She kept her eyes down. She wasn't sure what she'd see in his eyes, and while she didn't doubt that G Callen loved her with every fiber of his being, she felt somehow like she'd let him down by struggling with this. "How did you know I'd be able to move past the—what happened?"

And wasn't that just like her, not even being able to say it out loud, much less in her head. That she'd killed someone. That she'd ended a life, no matter the reason. She cringed, then tried to school it off her face, knowing she didn't want to show him her doubts, but also knowing that he could read them in her just the same.

He reached out and cupped her cheek, raising her face so he could meet her eyes. They were soft, the deepest blue, and so honestly open and hopeful that she had to bite back a sob. She nibbled her lower lip, laid bare under that penetrating gaze. He knew her secrets; after so many months together, he _knew her_ , and it was no longer frightening to be so transparent to someone like him. 

But she also felt the sharp edge of her fear and mistrust—not of him, but of herself. That she hadn't been sure—hadn't been sure until the moment she'd done it—that she could ever lift a gun again, much less point it at someone and have enough will in her to fire it.

Kill or be killed, and for a few days, she wanted to run from that knowledge, because it frightened her that she'd pulled the trigger when she had to. Frightened her that that will lived within her.

She felt ashamed, too, because if she really did want to be a covert operative, she couldn't afford the fear.

"Nell Jones, you are the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I know Hetty Lange." His words drew a reluctant chuckle from her, and she flicked her gaze down before raising her eyes to his once again. He was going to talk, really talk, like he so rarely did, and even though she was unsure, she didn't want to miss it, didn't want to miss seeing it happen right before her eyes.

He took a deep breath, and began again. "You are strong, you're smart, and you're good at what you do, _everything_ you do. You make our team better; you make _me_ better, and I can't imagine doing this job without you backing me up, even if it's just from Ops.

"I knew there'd come a day when you'd have to take a fatal shot. It happens to all of us, and I knew that you, more than anyone, would take it hard. It's not easy, to come to terms with the fact that you ended a life. And yeah, it's kill or be killed, but that's just what we say, and it's a trite as it sounds."

"So, how did you deal with it?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Callen slid his hand around to the nape of her neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then tugged her to him. She went willingly; there would never be a time she wouldn't take refuge in his arms, even if she knew she was strong enough not to need to. But he seemed to need the distance of no eye contact and the closeness of body heat as much as she did, so she settled against his chest and curled into him, letting the rumble of his voice comfort her even as he relived a difficult memory.

"You never forget your first," he said, entirely without humor. "I was chasing a guy through some back alleys in Budapest. He wound up turning down a dead end alley, and when I turned the corner, he was already aiming at me. I had to pull the trigger, and my training told me to take the lethal shot, because if I just tried to disable him, he might still be able to shoot back, and there was no cover in that alley.

"Anyway." She could feel his shrug as his body shifted against hers. "I stood there for a long minute, watching as he bled out into the cobblestones. I knew it would happen, sooner or later. You can't train to handle a gun and think you'll never have to use it. But hypotheticals and reality are two very different things, and at that moment, I couldn't believe that there was something inside me that would let me take another human life."

Nell flinched, not because of what had happened to him, but because of how eerily his words echoed her own jumbled thoughts.

"You think you're the only one that wonders where that comes from?" He smoothed a hand down her back, long, soothing strokes that warmed her and left her feeling comforted and cared for. "Everyone goes through that. We all wonder what makes us different from the bad guys, if we're also willing to kill. I could give you the platitudes, about the greater good and compassion and remorse, but the truth is that we do what we have to do to do our jobs. And yeah, we're the good guys, but some days it doesn't feel like it."

He paused for a long moment, his hand continuing to idly stroke her back, his heartbeat a steady rhythm in her ear. It was nice like this, and for just a few minutes, she could believe that nothing bad would ever happen again. There weren't many nights like this, which made her want to savor the moment that much more.

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, subdued. "I remember a story I heard, one of the few times I ever went to Sunday School when I was a kid. When Israel was under Persian rule, there was a man named Nehemiah who got permission from the Persian king to rebuild Jerusalem. So, he rounded up the people and the supplies and they set about rebuilding the wall around the city. But their enemies mocked them and told them they'd attack and stop the rebuilding of the wall, that the Israelites weren't strong enough to fend off an attack from all of them at once.

"So, Nehemiah set guards behind the people working to rebuild the wall," Callen continued. "And he gave weapons to the men working on the wall. Everyone was armed and everyone was responsible for helping to defend their home, but it was the guards standing in the gaps in the wall, the ones whose only job was to watch for danger, who were responsible for the safety of the people. They stood there, day after day as the wall rose higher, ready to defend their city— _their home_ —at a moment's notice. And no one ever attacked, because they were too afraid to against men defending their homes."

"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none," Nell whispered quietly.

"Ezekiel," Callen said, nodding. "That's us, Nell. We're the ones who stand in the gap. We carry the burden so others don't have to. We stand in the gap because we choose to, not because we've been ordered to. And it's a choice each one of us makes. I can't tell you why us and not others. I can't tell you what's inside us that makes us able to do the job. I can only tell you that we are the only ones who can carry the burden of taking a life to save a life."

He pushed up then, drawing her up with him until they were sitting facing each other. He combed a hand through her hair, and she leaned into the touch, her eyes falling shut as she savored the comfort. When she opened her eyes, she saw him watching her.

"You understand?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Yeah. I get it. I've always known that this is what I'm meant to do. I guess that's what you were talking about."

"Yeah," he said, ghosting a smile. "I knew you'd be okay because I saw it in you. That same thing that's in me. In Sam. In Kensi and Deeks. It's a core strength that means you'll be able to make the hard choices and come out the other side."

"So why send Nate?" His face showed surprise for only a split-second, but she saw it. "You didn't think I'd figure out who sent him over? Of course it was you. Who else would it be?"

Callen chuckled. "Yeah, I sent him over. I figured you needed to talk to someone who'd been through what you're going through now. Someone you wouldn't feel was pressuring you to make a choice."

"Thank you for that," she said, reaching out to cup his cheek in her palm. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a small thanks for all the support he'd lent her without her even realizing it.

"Always," he said, smiling at her. "Better?"

Nell shrugged. "Maybe. A little."

"It'll take time," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Just give it time."

She sighed as she melted into his arms, the only place she really wanted to be right now. The rest of it could wait. There was a long road ahead of her, and she hadn't been kidding when she'd told Hetty that she intended to make her own way on that path. That choice might make it harder, but in the end, she'd get there. She just had to find a way forward.

There was no forgetting what she'd done. She had to learn to live with it, find a way to let it be part of her without overwhelming her. And with Callen's help, she thought maybe she could.

Sanctification. Purification. Absolution. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but what she'd found was infinitely more precious: acceptance.

~Finis


End file.
